Insatiable
by M. Willow
Summary: A captivating green eyed woman isn't what she appears to be.
1. Chapter 1

Insatiable

By M.Willow

_The characters don't belong to me. _

_This is not an X rated story, but it does contain adult themes._

**Part 1**

How many times had it been? Eight? Ten? More? He had lost count. They had been at it since he picked her up at a grocery store. She had been shopping for melons. The woman wasn't particularly beautiful, just average, but she had the most gorgeous eyes he had ever seen. A man could get lost in those eyes, he thought as he hungrily kissed her. And he was lost, lost for the past six hours.

Now he studied her. She had raven black hair, full luscious lips, and eyes that were such a light shade of green that they looked almost yellow. Her eyes were unnatural, animal like. They could scare a man just by their intensity. Now he pulled her close to him, wanting to snuggle against her, wanting to rest really, but she would have none of it. She captured his lips in an intense kiss and soon his body was responding again. Was it twelve times, now? No that was impossible, he thought, as he kissed her deeply.

Napoleon was tired. He sat in his chair trying to concentrate on the folder before him. "Thrush again," he said aloud, as he threw the file on the table and rested his head on his arms. The crash of the door awakened him from his almost desired slumber. He looked up to see a very tired looking Illya. The Russian sat heavily in his chair without acknowledging the American and spoke almost too quietly for Napoleon to hear him. "So what have we, Napoleon?"

"Another Thrush plot, what else?" Napoleon answered.

Illya regarded Napoleon with concern, and then turned his attention to the files on his desk. They were numerous, dropped off by the secretary this morning. They were all about Thrush. Every nefarious plot they had come up with in the past two months could be found sitting on either his or Napoleon's table. Frankly, Illya was too tired to care. He didn't want to save the world today, or any other day. "Why don't we go to breakfast," he said tiredly. "These files can wait until we're done eating at least."

Napoleon regarded his friend with surprise and then concern. It was not like the stoic Russian to ignore his duties. Illya was the type who would come in extra early in the morning and get started before he even had his first cup of coffee. Now he seemed drawn, tight, too tired to even think of working.

"Coming down with something, Tovarish?"

"Yeah, tired of trying to save the world. Come on, lets eat," Illya said while grabbing his coat.

The cafeteria was quiet, too quiet. Napoleon noticed that a few agents seemed overly tired. A few men even slept.

"What's going on around here?" Napoleon asked as he scooped the eggs into his mouth in his mouth.

"What do you mean?" Illya asked.

"Look around you. I've never seen so many people looking like they've been up all night. You included?

Illya looked uncomfortably at his friend. "I am not that tired. I just stayed up a little too late."

"Why?"

Illya looked at Napoleon, nervously grabbing his cup of coffee, gulping quickly.

"Why what?"

"Why were you up late last night?"

"I am aware that we have a close friendship and you're the CEA, but my personal life is…."

Napoleon cut him off. "Listen, normally I wouldn't ask. But you should see how you look. Did you even comb your hair?"

Illya abruptly stood. "You're right, Napoleon. I'm not feeling well. I think I'll just go home." And with that the Russian left the cafeteria, leaving a very confused Napoleon still sitting there.

They met again at his place. The plan was to have dinner and then maybe dancing. They never left his apartment. Now they were in bed. He was amazed by her beautiful body. He was kissing every inch of her when he heard the annoying sound of the communicator. He hazily felt himself reach for it, only to be stopped by the passionate kiss of the woman. The last thing he remembered was hearing the voice of his friend over the communicator.


	2. Chapter 2

Insatiable

By M.Willow

**Part 2**

Napoleon waited nervously in his office. He had tried to contact Illya all night, even going to his apartment, which was uncharacteristically locked. This concerned him. He and Illya always had access to each others apartment. It seemed that Illya had intentionally had the locks changed and not bothered to inform Napoleon or give him the new keys and access code. This disturbed Solo. Illya was his best friend and being able to get into each others apartment had saved them on more than one occasion.

Now, Napoleon paced the floor. It was going on eleven o'clock in the morning and the Russian had not even bothered to call. Napoleon grabbed his coat and headed over to Illya's apartment. He was determined to get to the bottom of his friends behavior even if it meant busting the door down to do it.

Napoleon arrived at Illya's door twenty minutes later. He knocked sharply on the door and heard the quiet shuffle of his friend. Soon the door was opened to reveal a very tired and drawn Illya. He had on a yellow robe which did nothing to hide the ghostly pallor of his skin. The Russian looked totally wiped out. Illya acknowledged Napoleon's presence with a slight nod of his head and then turned and headed to the couch. He dropped heavily on the couch and covered himself with a thin spread.

Napoleon crossed the room to his friend quickly, touching his forehead to check for a temperature. Illya annoyingly knocked his hand away. "Napoleon, what do you think you are doing?"

"Checking your temperature, what else. You look horrible Illya. I think we better get you to the hospital.

"Don't even think it. I'm not sick. Just tired. I'm not going to the hospital."

Napoleon was really worried. He reasoned that Illya had probably passed out lasts night and was unable to answer his pages.

"Illya, I called you last night. Why didn't you answer? Were you too sick to get up?"

"I couldn't. I was otherwise engaged." Illya answered.

"Engaged with what?"

"Napoleon, why do you insist on knowing my entire life…?

"I'm not interested in your entire life. Just what's happening to you now. You should see yourself."

"I know what I look like," the Russian angrily huffed.

"Napoleon, you must have something else to do with your time. Why don't you go back to UNCLE, catch some wild Thrush?"

"I'm not leaving until you tell me what's going on."

"Suit yourself." Illya answered. Soon Napoleon heard the soft snoring of his friend. Well at least he's getting some rest, he thought.


	3. Chapter 3

Insatiable

By M.Willow

**Part 3**

Illya slept for twelve hours. Napoleon finally was able to have a doctor see him while he was in his deep slumber. He didn't awakend during the examination. The Russian had a slightly elevated pulse rate, but was otherwise given a perfect bill of health by the doctor. The doctor also pointed out that Illya had just received a full examination only a few weeks ago and was in good health. The doctor suggested that the Russian was probably just tired and suggested Napoleon just let him sleep. Napoleon reluctantly returned to UNCLE HQ a few hours after the doctor left.

She came to him and lifted him from his deep slumber. He vaguely remembered her hands, and those yellow-green eyes. This time the woman found no need for the bed, the couch would do just fine.

Illya dragged himself into work three days later. He hoped Napoleon would not question him about his activities over the past three days. Honestly, his memory was largely a blur. He remembered spending time with his girlfriend. Probably too much time. They had been dating for three weeks now, since he met her in the grocery store. He realized that he didn't know much about her, other than she resided in New York and had the oddest light green eyes he had ever seen. Strange thing was, all he could remember was the eyes. Ask him her height, he couldn't answer. He didn't know the color of her hair, or how she looked when she smiled. Was it because they spent most of their time in the bedroom? He had never felt this way before. They had made love ten and eleven times a day. It seemed impossible. So impossible that he felt some sort of shame. He was sleeping with a woman he hardly knew, yet he had always been the kind of man that wanted a strong commitment in a relationship. Napoleon was the one that went for casual relationships.

Napoleons sat in Waverly's office listening to the old man tell him one of the strangest stories he had ever expected to hear in UNCLE headquarters.

"I think we have a succubus on our hands." Waverly said.

Napoleon cleared his throat. "A succubus, sir?"

"Yes, Mr. Solo. "

"Isn't that some kind of mystical creature that uses her sexual wiles to destroy men?"

"You are quite right. A succubus is a medieval legend. It is a demon that takes the form of a woman to seduce men. It is said that this demon drains the strength from a man, sometimes to the point of death."

"But sir, surely that's a myth. "

"Yes, that is until our feathered friends created one of their own. Have you noticed the male population of UNCLE recently?"

"Sir?"

Waverly harrumphed. "Of course, Mr. Solo. How could I have considered such a thing."

Napoleon cleared his throat. "Well actually, sir. I have noticed that some of the men have looked overly tired lately. Some of them have actually had problems performing their duties."

"Quite astute of you," Waverly said while reaching for a pipe. "I have been informed by some of my connections that Thrush has created the ultimate weapon. I was unable ascertain how this new weapon works. It may be a drug or some other method. However, it does involve women in a sexual way. Apparently these women lure the men into sleeping with them. Afterwards, the men lose all interest in anything but the women."

Napoleon looked steadily at Waverly as the old man continued. "It seems that a growing portion of our men have been affected—so far in New York only."

"How many sir?" Napoleon asked.

"Approximately twenty men. All of these men hold senior positions or are top field agents. I have questioned most of the men. I believe more than one woman is involved. All of the men reported meeting green-eyed women at approximately the same time."

"Any women?"

"So far, no."

"Sir, if I may point out, I am in good health. So not every man holding a senior position has been affected."

"Yes, Mr. Solo. I have considered that as well. I believe you have not been affected because it is a normal state for you."

"Sir?" Napoleon said.

"Well, Mr. Solo. You have quite a reputation. I think Thrush thought better of using you for that reason. Perhaps you are impervious to their tactics."

"Sir, if I may be so bold, but you don't seem to have been affected?"

"Of course," the old man said simply.

"Illya," Napoleon said.

"Yes. I have asked that young man to report here as soon as possible." Waverly checked his watch. "It seems that he is late."

The door opened at this proclamation to admit a very tired looking Illya. Illya crossed the room and poured himself a cup of coffee, sitting heavily down in one of the chairs."

Normally Illya was the picture of formality whenever he was in the company of Waverly. Now he slumped in the chair, sipping his coffee and scarcely looking at the old man. He didn't seem to care that his hair was not combed and his suit wrinkled.

Waverly observed Illya for a few minutes and then puffed his pipe. "Well, young man, what have you to say?"

"You tell me, I wasn't the one to call me at an ungodly hour, now was I?" Illya looked sharply at the old man.

Napoleon was shocked. In all his years of knowing Illya he had never seen the Russian show so much disrespect. Waverly continued to observe Illya. The old man lit is pipe and spoke sternly to the Russian agent.

"Indeed, are you aware that you may have been drugged, young man?"

Illya dropped his cup, the hot liquid flowing down the table and onto his lap. The Russian scarcely flinched as the hot liquid seeped through his pants.

"Drugged! that explains it." Illya said.

"Explains what? What's going on?" Napoleon asked.

Illya's complexion reddened and he looked nervously about the room.

"Illya, if there is something going on, you must tell us. That's an order." Napoleon said.

Illya looked sternly at his friend as if he considered disobeying a direct order and then he proceeded to tell them of the woman.

The smell of tobacco permeated Illya's senses reminding him that he was sitting in UNCLE headquarters discussing something so intimately personal. He closed his eyes for a second, casting his mind back to when he picked up the strange green-eyed woman in the grocery store.

"We went to my place," he said in a monotone voice. She was on me within seconds and we went to the bedroom. We didn't talk, there was no need. The rest of the night went by in a blur with me losing strength each time we made love.

The room was silent as the old man listened to the tale. Finally, Napoleon spoke, "What do you remember about her?"

"Just the green eyes. They were remarkable. They were a very light shade of green, almost yellow," Illya said, coloring lightly. He looked up at the old man. "My behavior has been reprehensible. I must be removed from my position as section two, number two immediately." He looked down at the table. "I can no longer trust myself."

"I will do no such thing," Waverly said adamantly. "Both of you will get to the bottom of this plot. Our organization has been greatly crippled by this latest Thrush effort. I want it stopped. And I want it stopped now. Dismissed."

Both agents left the room, Illya walking slowly behind Napoleon.


	4. Chapter 4

Insatiable

By M.Willow

**Part 4**

Napoleon and Illya sat at their desk drinking a cup of coffee. The Russian had scarcely spoken since leaving Waverly's office. Now Napoleon realized the cost that had been inflicted on the stoic Russian. He was a private man, and now he had had to reveal some of the most intimate details of his life to his superior. And then, there was the emotional aspect of it. Illya was always a man who avoided sexual flings. His past relationships were serious and would have lead to marriage had it not been for his dedication to UNCLE.

"Listen, you'll stay at my place tonight," Napoleon said slowly.

"You mean so the succubus doesn't have her way with me."

"Yes. And so you can get some rest. We've got to solve this case and you can't do it if you're too tired to move."

"I feel like I've been raped." Illya stated simply.

Napoleon took a deep breath, walking over to the Russians desk and sitting down on the edge. Illya sat staring into his cup of coffee as Napoleon laid a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "We're going to get through this. And if you need to talk, if you need anything…."

"Illya looked up. How could I? I didn't know her. I don't understand. I'm so embarrassed." Illya looked pleadingly into Napoleon's eyes.

"We'll find the answers. And we'll get through this together."

It didn't take long to find the succubus. Napoleon waited in Illya's apartment that night while the Russian slept peacefully at Napoleon's apartment. Napoleon had backup in the guise of Mark who also had not been affected by the succubus probably because he had been on a mission in London.

The succubus quietly entered the darkened apartment—apparently Illya had provided a key and the access code because she had no problems getting into the apartment. Napoleon glimpsed her briefly as she walked across the room. If the average man's idea of a succubus was a ravishing beauty, they would have been gravely disappointed. Here was an average woman, no more than five feet tall, with black hair too long for her height.

Once the succubus was in sight, Mark quickly turned the light on while Napoleon grabbed her, pushing her to the floor. She fell to the floor kicking and trying to bite. She screamed until Napoleon put his hand over her mouth. The first thing he noticed about the succubus was the intense green eyes. They were the lightest shade of green that he had ever seen.

"If you'll stop screaming, I'll release you," Napoleon huffed.

She nodded her head and he slowly released her. The succubus sat up, staring warily at the men.

"Who are you?" Mark asked.

The green-eyed woman didn't answer.

"Tell us who you are and what you are doing here?"

Again she looked from one man to the other without answering.

"Listen, we can do it the hard way, or you can simply tell us your name." Napoleon said.

"My name is of no importance. I have a name. That's all you need to know," she said.

Her accent was indescribable. Napoleon had traveled all over the world and not encountered this one.

"Are you from Thrush?" Mark asked. Napoleon noticed that Mark avoided direct eye contact with her.

"Thrush," she asked questioningly. "Where is the blond one?"

"What did you do to him?" Napoleon asked.

The woman looked silently at Napoleon.

"Your language is a difficult one," she said slowly. "I will have the time to adapt." The woman sat on the floor, her green eyes intently cast on Napoleon. Napoleon felt as if she were staring straight through him.

"You're a very attractive man. I see now why they sent me for the blond one." The woman said that as she looked directly into Solo's eyes.

"Alright lady, who the hell are you?" Mark asked, still avoiding eye contact.

"My people have existed long before the time of yours. We live in the hills mostly, hidden from your civilization for many years. A few months ago, men came. They were much like you. They took me and brought me to this place. I will return when my duty has ended."

Napoleon angrily pulled the woman to her feet and sat her in a nearby chair. He and Mark grabbed chairs sitting opposite of her. Both were playing the bad cop.

"Where are you from?" Napoleon asked.

"It has no name. It is the place I was taken from."

"Stop the riddles. You drugged my friend, slept with him, and…."

"Slept," she smiled. "We did far more than that." She moved her hand, touching Solo's for an instant.

The American agent moved quickly from the chair. "You've got handcuffs Mark?"

"Yes," the younger man answered."

"Better use them. We need to take her in."

Mark looked questioningly at Napoleon, then retrieved the handcuffs and put them on the woman. She never protested the confinement.


	5. Chapter 5

Insatiable

By M.Willow

**Part 5**

Napoleon was in the interrogation room questioning the succubus when Illya entered. Blue eyes met green as each silently regarded each other. Illya looked as if he were in a trance. Napoleon broke the trance by clearing his throat and moving between the woman and his best friend.

"You okay?" Napoleon asked quietly.

"I soon will be. Can you leave us for a few minutes?" Illya asked.

"Absolutely not, not after that display you just put on." Napoleon hastily replied.

Illya moved Solo to the side of the room so the woman couldn't hear their conversation.

"Napoleon, I need …I need to understand. Please. I will be okay with her. Her hands are secured. You have a two way mirror so you can observe everything."

"Well, I don't like it. You looked like she had you hypnotized when you came in."

"I was just stunned. I hadn't remembered what she looked like. She just looks like an ordinary girl."

"Does she look familiar at all? This is the right woman, isn't it? I mean who else…"

"No. It's not that. Just that…well we spent most of our time in the dark. I really don't remember much except the green eyes."

Napoleon looked down at the floor. "Yes, who could forget those eyes."

Illya took a deep breath. "Napoleon, I really must be alone with her. I don't think she will talk with you here."

Napoleon looked at his friend. He saw the quiet desperation in his eyes. "Okay, but I'm staying close. I'll be on the other side of that two-way glass." Napoleon reluctantly left the room.

Illya stood alone with the woman. He noted her olive complexion. She was wearing a green dress that enhanced the striking color of her eyes. The dress accentuated her curves, causing the Russian to react uncomfortably to her presence. He schooled himself to watch his emotions around her. He seated himself opposite her, intent on finding the answers to why he would pick up a strange woman in a grocery store and stopped caring about everything else.

"What did you do to me?" Illya asked.

"Ah. You're the fine one. What didn't I do to you should be the question."

Illya held a shuddering breath. The woman had captured him with her eyes. He knew Napoleon stood on the other side of the two way glass and it comforted him. Had it not been for the cool presence of his friend, he thought he might have just reached across the table and made love to her right there in UNCLE headquarters. His physical reaction to her was becoming more pronounced the more time he spent with her. He wondered if it were possible to really create a love potion. Still, this had nothing to do with love, it was pure lust he felt for her, almost overpowering, insatiable.

Now, he walked away from her toward the comforting presence of Napoleon. His breaths were coming in short gasp. And then he found himself moving towards her, leaning down, and capturing her lips with his. The room was silent except for the soft moans escaping from both of them. He was so lost in the kiss that he didn't hear Napoleon enter the room.

Napoleon and Illya were back in their shared office. Napoleon was standing watching his friend who sat on the couch, holding his head down. "What was that Napoleon? It was like I couldn't control myself."

"I know. I was there. I think if I hadn't made my entrance at that time, you two would have…"

Napoleon couldn't complete the sentence. His mind replayed the scene he witness in the two way mirror. At first Illya was pacing the floor. Napoleon noted that the Russian seemed uncomfortable making eye contact. Then suddenly, his demeanor changed and the Russian was kissing the woman more passionately than anything Napoleon had witnessed in a long time.

Napoleon looked at his friend. Illya was a wreck. He seemed to be under the power of this woman. The lab had tested him and found no drugs. Still the drugs could be undetectable. The Russian seemed powerless in the presence of the woman. They still hadn't found anything about her, not even her name. Even Illya couldn't identify the accent.

"Illya, we're going to solve this.

"How? She's not talking. And I can't seem to think of anything except being with her."

The Russian angrily stood. "Do you know how this feels? To be out of control. I wanted her so badly in that room, that I would have done anything, given anything to have her. What's wrong with me?"

Napoleon put a reassuring hand on the Russian. "We'll solve this thing. But I'm going to need your help. And we need to talk with Waverly to find out how the other men are doing"

Illya shuddered and then followed Solo to Waverly's office.


	6. Chapter 6

Insatiable

By M.Willow

**Part 6**

The old man was clearly agitated as he reported that more men had been affected. Each man could only remember the green eyes of the women. Each of the men had taken the women home and spent the night with them making love past the point of exhaustion.

Illya sat listening to the story. Napoleon could tell that the Russian was embarrassed to hear the story of the other men, realizing that he had also been a pawn in the plot.

"You must find a way to make this woman speak. She must tell us who is behind this plot so that we can put an end to it." Waverly said.

"It has to be Thrush. Who else." Napoleon said.

Illya was uncharacteristically quiet, adding nothing to the conversation.

"I want answers, gentlemen. I suggest you start looking for them now."

"We will keep trying, sir." Napoleon said.

"Do more than try, gentlemen. The fate of the whole world depends on it. I can't have these women infecting a whole population." Waverly said.

"And how do you expect us to solve it sir? What magic potion do you plan to use to get her to talk?" Illya angrily asked.

The blond agent stood abruptly, his hands clinched. "I'm tired of this. I'm tired of saving the world. I'm tired of Thrush, but mostly I'm tired of you giving us these impossible assignments and expecting us to solve it.

The Russian moved maliciously toward Waverly. The old man seemed unconcerned at his approach. Solo quickly moved from his chair and placed a restraining hand on the Russian. "Illya, what are you doing?"

Illya looked as if he had been struck and abruptly returned to his seat.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Warverly. I'm hardly myself."

"It is understandable, Mr. Kuryakin, considering the circumstances."

The room was quiet after that statement and then Illya's soft voice.

"I must go back into that room. This time without restraints on her."

"You're not going in that room alone. Not after what happened." Napoleon hastily added.

"Wrong. Mr. Solo. I am aware of what happened when Mr. Kuryakin last saw this… this woman. But he will go in that room. We need to see how she affects him. It might be our only chance for answers."

Napoleon looked reluctantly at Waverly. The old man was right. He just didn't want to risk his friends psychological well being to get answers. Still, he nodded when Waverly made his final decision.

It was late in the afternoon the next day when Illya headed back to UNCLE headquarters to visit the woman. She was residing in the UNCLE apartment. Waverly wanted a natural environment to observe the exchange between Illya and the woman. The apartment was one that UNCLE kept for out of town agents or agents who were simply too tired to go home. The room was been observed on a monitor in Waverly's office. Ten scientists from around the world sat with Waverly and Solo.

Now, Illya entered the small apartment and observed the quiet presence of the green-eyed woman. She was standing at the window when he entered the room. She turned when she heard him approach, crossing the room, and kissing him deeply. Illya was aware of the soft probing tongue of the woman. He knew that they were being observed by UNCLE personnel. Still, he didn't care as he gave in to the woman's insistent kisses. Soon she was leading him to the couch and he was following her, wanting more.

The woman was lying on top of Illya, kissing him deeply, their tongues intermingled. He wanted to stop, needed to stop. He was about to embarrass himself in front of his boss best friend, and a number of scientist observing them on the video monitors. He didn't care. The woman ripped his shirt open, planting kisses down his chest. She reached for the buckle of his pants and he didn't stop her. Help me, he thought. Where was Napoleon? But then he realized that he was an experiment, a lab rat. Waverly was going to allow this to continue to its logical conclusion. He fought for control and felt himself moving on wobbly legs toward the chair. He leaned against the chair, his body shaking. The woman was lying seductively across the couch, beckoning him with those eyes.

He wanted her so much, more than wanted—he wanted her being, her essence, everything. His pulse quickened.

"What's the matter? Am I too much woman for you?" She asked seductively. Her voice was soft and alluring with the still undefined accent.

"Tell me who you are?" he asked with a trembling voice.

"Come here!" she commanded.

Illya fought for control, but found himself walking towards her. "No," he said. "I can't." He was shaking his head with his eyes closed. He fell to the floor. "Who are you and what have you done to me," he asked as blackness overtook him.


	7. Chapter 7

Insatiable

By M.Willow

**Part 7**

Napoleon was sitting on his bed when Illya opened his eyes. Illya sat up quickly, looking around.

"How did I get here?" Illya asked.

"You passed out so we brought you to the infirmary."

Illya leaned back on the pillow, his hand massaging his head.

"I've got a headache." He said simply.

The doctor came in the room and sat in the chair next to the bed. Dr. Roberts was a tall man with a prominent chin and curly brown hair. He grabbed a chair and sat across from Napoleon and Illya.

"We have checked your vitals. Everything is within normal limits. There are no signs of drugs." The doctor said.

"So what happened to me back there?" Illya asked desperately.

"Unknown. Some kind of mind control. How, we don't know. Whatever it is, it was so intense that resisting caused you to pass out and gave you a killer headache."

Illya sat up abruptly and then fell weakly back to his pillow.

"Do you realize I can do nothing but think about her? I can't eat. I can't work. I can't do anything but think about…. What am I going to do? Do you know what it is like to have your entire being taken over by…. Doctor, you've got to do something. Give me something. Anything. I want my life back."

Napoleon put a comforting hand on the Russian, looking expectantly at the doctor.

"I'm sorry to say that we have nothing to offer at this time. We are looking, but I'm afraid this is something new. Something that we've never encountered. We need answers before we can help you."

"What about the rest of the men. Are they like me?"

"Yes, some are worse and one man has died."

Napoleon moved protectively closer to Illya.

Illya moved to get up.

"What are you doing?" the doctor asked.

"Well if you can't do anything, then why should I just lay here in this bed. I'm going to get some answers?"

"How? You can't go anywhere near her."

"I won't need to. I believe the answers are right in front of us. We just don't know where to look. I intend to find it and get my life back."

It was three hours later. Illya and Napoleon sat at a table in their office reading through a stack of files.

"It's got to be in these Thrush files. Some clue, anything." Illya said tiredly.

"Don't worry. We'll find it."

"Easy for you to say, you're not under the control of this woman."

"Well, I have been more times than I care to count."

Illya looked speculatively at his friend. Waverly had explained his theory of why Napoleon hadn't been infected. Still, Illya preferred a more scientific answer. There had to be something that they were missing. Something that he felt was right in front of them.

"Napoleon, why do you think they didn't go after you? You're the CEA. It's logical."

"You know Waverly's theory?"

"Yes, but what is your theory?"

"Don't know."

"Let's think. Uncle is a large organization. There are approximately one-hundred agents working at UNCLE headquarters. Of that number, forty were on a mission and so not affected, that leaves sixty. Of the sixty, twenty were affected. Each of the twenty hold high positions in UNCLE. Why only twenty. Why not you? It would have been pretty easy to get you to pick up one of those women and losing a high ranking UNCLE agent would have been devastating to UNCLE."

"Wait a minute," Napoleon said. "I don't just pick up any woman. I have standards."

Illya waved him off. "You know what I mean. I think we need to find out what is different about the men selected."

"Could be random you know," Napoleon said.

"Yes, and it could be deliberate."

The agents studied the file of the twenty men, including Illya's. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary, and then the answer just popped out of the paper.

"Here it is. It's the eyes. All the infected agents have blue or green eyes."

Napoleon grabbed a file and saw that Illya was right.

"Could be that these women liked blue and green eyed men, you know."

"I don't think so. You know the one thing I noticed about the woman was her green eyes. They are a color I've never seen. But maybe, just maybe, there's something more to her eye color. Maybe Thrush has come up with a way of…"

Napoleon finished the thought. "A way of sending a signal to a man that could control his libido. Making him want to do nothing but make love."

"But it's got to be more, Napoleon. I mean we did it at least ten times in one night. "

"You didn't tell me that."

"I know, and I'm sorry, but it seemed….it seemed insignificant at the time."

Napoleon colored and then asked his friend the next question.

"How did it feel when you two.. I mean… did you feel like she was controlling you, forcing you."

Illya's complexion reddened as he answered. "It was like she was draining me, each time, yet I felt powerless to stop. I couldn't get enough. I kept wanting to stop, but then she would touch." Illya stopped. "Napoleon, must I go on? It's personal."

"I know. But I needed to know. We're looking for clues and your answers could solve this case."

"I think it's the eyes Napoleon, her eyes are not normal."

"I noticed that. Well, I think we need to make an appointment for our little succubus with the eye doctor."


	8. Chapter 8

Insatiable

By M.Willow

**Part 8**

Two hours later a special team of scientist was investigating the mysterious contact lenses. They had taken them from the woman while she was under sedation. The removal of them revealed that she had brown eyes... Now the scientist and the agents sat in Waverly's office listening to the report.

Dr. Matthew Potier, a scientist specializing in electronic technology, spoke. "The lenses contain a small devise that hypnotizes its victims. The devise sends a wave of light, undetectable to the naked eye. It is limited, requiring the victim to have light colored eyes. That's why all the victims have had blue or green eyes."

"How does it work and what can we do to stop it other than not hiring agents with light eye colors." Waverly asked.

"That's the question. Another question is, how long does the affects last." Napoleon added.

Illya shifted uncomfortably in his chair.

"Apparently, the devise triggers an area of the brain that controls sexual functioning. That's why the men could have sex for an unusual high number of times. As to how long it will work… We'll need a willing recipient to go into the room with the woman to find that out. It's possible, that once the lenses are removed, the power the women have is removed as well. We'll need to do research…."

Let me go back in that room with her and see what happens," Illya said suddenly.

"Are you sure, Illya?" Napoleon asked.

"Very. I don't want to live my life running from green-eyed women."

Illya walked into the apartment and saw the now brown-eyed woman. She was sitting on the couch, her eyes downcast. She looked sad and vulnerable. Illya seated himself on the couch next to her. He noticed that he didn't feel anything sexual toward the woman. Now, he only felt sadness at her vulnerable appearance.

They sat in silence for a few minutes and then the woman spoke, "I'm sorry," Illya noted that she no longer had the accent. She sounded like she came from the Midwest.

"They came to me with an offer. An offer to be beautiful for the first time in my life."

Illya took her hands into his and looked deeply into the woman's eyes as she told her story.

"I've always been plain, unloved. Then they came. They told me they had an invention that would make me irresistible to men. I'd always wanted that. You see, I had only been on one date in my life, and that was bought and paid for by my sister."

"So you went along with it," Illya said

"Yes. I went along with it. They took me to this doctor, and he implanted them. He said they'd only work on men with light eyes. They showed me your picture. I thought you were so attractive. After the lenses were implanted, I felt so powerful," she sobbed. "Men wanted me. Me. Mousy old Carolyn."

Carolyn rocked back and forth. Illya took her in his arms, smoothing her hair as she cried.

"I just wanted to be loved. That's all. I didn't mean to hurt anyone, least of all you." She looked sadly at Illya and then turned her head. He held her hands gently.

"These men who came to you. Do you know what they looked like?"

"Just big men. One was bald. I really don't know much more. I just wanted to be beautiful and exotic. Those eyes did that for me and no one was hurt."

"But that's where you're wrong. People were hurt and one man died. Carolyn we need for you to tell us everything you know. We need to find the other women involved in this plot."

Well, I don't know about the men, but the women are all staying at a downtown hotel. I can tell you where they are."

Carolyn gave Illya the address of the women. Illya continued to question her.

"What about the men. What can you tell us?"

The woman looked at Illya, sorrow in her eyes.

"They had a bird on their suit. I thought it looked rather silly—grown men wearing suits with birds on it."

"Thrush," Illya said.

"Yes, that's it. Thrush. I remember one of them saying that."

Illya took a sharp intake of breath, and then released it. "Carolyn, I'm so sorry. They used you."

"No, they told me no one would be hurt. It was just an experiment, to see if people like me could be helped."

"People like you? " Illya asked.

"Yes, you know, ugly people."

Illya took Carolyn's face in his hands. "Carolyn, don't you know that you're not ugly. Beauty is defined in many ways, not by just the standards of Hollywood or some fashion magazine."

Carolyn looked down and then back into Illya's vivid blue eyes. "You really believe that, don't you?"

"Of course, it's the truth."

Carolyn smiled through her tears.

"What will happen to me?"

"Nothing. You were a pawn in a larger game. You didn't know and the last time I heard, it wasn't against the law to seduce someone."

Carolyn visibly relaxed.

"I made up the accent. I wanted to be mysterious. You know, like in the Hollywood movies. Men like mysterious women."

"I don't," Illya said and took her in his arms and held her as she cried.

One month later Carolyn was saying goodbye to Illya in his office at UNCLE headquarters. Carolyn had spent the past month assisting the agents in solving the case. Although Illya was no longer affected by the contact lens, he found that he genuinely liked Carolyn. She was just a shy woman who sought beauty in all the wrong places. Now he hated to see her leave.

"I'm really going to miss you when you return to Chicago." Illya said.

Carolyn smiled. "I'll miss you too."

"Then why don't you stay?"

"My life is not here. I want to go back home. I'll stay with my parents while I finish school and become a teacher. Then maybe I'll come back here."

"I hope so."

Carolyn looked sadly at Illya. "Illya, I'm really sorry about what happened between us. I mean, I shouldn't have allowed it to go so far."

"Carolyn, I told you that I've forgiven you for what happened. Now, we can't do anything about the past, but we have the future. I want you to come back here one day. We'll pretend that we never met and get to know each other the right way."

Carolyn smiled at Illya, kissing him lightly on the cheek. "Good bye, Illya. Until we meet again." She turned and left the room.

Napoleon found his friend sitting in their office looking sad.

"You okay, Tovarish?"

"Yes, I'm fine. Just thinking."

"Well, think about this. Our team of scientist has just found the cure for the contact lens. It's a sort of jamming devise."

"Great," was all the Russian said.

Napoleon was surprised. After all that had happened, he expected his friend to be elated about the news. Instead, Illya sat sadly at his desk twirling a pen.

"I thought you would be happy about this, Illya."

Illya looked up at his friend and smiled. "I am Napoleon, it's just that…well, Carolyn is a marvelous girl. Any man would be lucky to have her. Yet, she couldn't see that. Her idols were the beauties of the silver screen and women on magazine covers. It nearly destroyed her."

Napoleon came over to Illya's desk and took a seat on the edge. "I know, Tovarish. It must be tough being a woman. There's all the expectations to live up to. And if you can't…."

"Then you end up like Carolyn, willing to do anything just to have someone love her." Illya said.

Both men sat in companionable silence and then Illya spoke. "I really like her."

Napoleon patted the Russian on the shoulder. "I know. And you know what? I'm sure we haven't seen the last of Carolyn. Come on. Let's get something to eat."

"For once you've had a good idea, my friend." Illya said smiling.

"Hey, I've had plenty of good ideas," the American said as they headed out the door.

Fin


End file.
